


My Life for Yours

by Cantatrice18



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games), Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords
Genre: Feels, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Rescue, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22672678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: In the heat of battle, Visas makes the ultimate sacrifice for her new master. But the Exile is not ready to let her fiercest disciple go just yet.Another ending option for the fight aboard the Ravager.
Kudos: 6





	My Life for Yours

She understood the gravity of her error the moment she saw Visas raise the lightsaber high. It had just been a slip of the tongue, something Kreia had mentioned long ago. In the heat of battle, she'd misspoken. But with Visas, one word was all it took.

The lightsaber entered Visas’ chest with barely a hint of resistance. For one horrifying moment she stood, illuminated by the very blade that impaled her. Then the blade flickered out and she fell.

The moment she struck the ground, a shockwave rippled through the force. The bond that tied Visas to her old master had been torn asunder, destroyed by her sacrifice. Darth Nihilus screamed his rage as he readied himself to fight once more. As the Exile raised her weapon to parry his strike, all she could think about was the woman who lay bleeding mere feet away.

It seemed like an eternity before Nihilus collapsed, dead. The Exile didn’t give him a second glance; her attention turned at once to Visas, her fallen disciple. She ran to the Miraluka’s side, kneeling by the woman’s body and resting a shaking hand on her shoulder. “Visas, can you hear me?” she asked urgently.

“Was it . . .” Visas moaned, pain evident in her voice. “Was it . . .enough?”

“It was too much,” the Exile responded. “I never meant it to be this way. I shouldn’t have said—”

“No, master,” Visas chided in a half-whisper. “It was my . . . my honor to die for you. I would die a thousand times over if you desired it.”

The Exile swallowed. It was hard to keep her eyes from the charred hole that pierced Visas’ chest. The lightsaber had cauterized the wound so that it barely bled, but anyone could tell the injury was a fatal one. “Visas, I’m sorry. This should never have been your fight.” She could feel the young woman shaking, sense her life force slipping away.

The thought gave the Exile a sudden, dangerous idea. “Visas, take my hand,” the Exile instructed, interlacing her fingers with those of the dying woman. “Breathe with me.”

“Let me go,” Visas urged weakly. “I die contented. You must escape. Your mission—”

“Damn my mission,” the Exile swore. “Breathe with me, Visas. Focus your thoughts on me.”

“They are always with you,” Visas murmured.

“Keep them there, then,” the Exile urged. “Breathe, and join with me.”

Together they sank into meditation, the Exile diving deeper than she ever had before. The Council had accused her of forming force bonds by mistake, but this one would be no accident. If she could link Visas’ life with her own, then her power could flow through them both. Either that, or the attempt would kill the pair of them. At this point, the Exile was willing to risk it. She would not let Visas go without a fight. 

The Force came to her willingly, a ribbon of light binding her to the flickering candle flame that was Visas. The power flowed through both their bodies, circling the wound in Visas’ chest like a curious cat. Heal, the Exile thought. The light obeyed, drawing strength through the bond as it began knitting together charred muscle and bone. The Exile knew there wasn’t time to complete the healing. They needed to escape before Mandalore’s charges exploded. More than that, she knew that her own stores of power were not nearly enough to heal so deadly a wound. But the bond she’d forged was sufficient to keep Visas alive until they got off this accursed ship, and that was all that mattered.

The Exile roused herself from her meditative trance to discover that Visas’ breathing had calmed. Each inhale was shallow, to be sure, but even. Her dark red lips were parted in surprise, not pain. “Master, I do not understand. Why—”

“My life for yours,” the Exile answered, echoing Visas’ own words. “Now, and always.”


End file.
